Getting Married in Heaven . . .
A couple decide to elope and get married but on the way to the Registry office they are involved in a fatal car crash.
They find themselves standing next to St Peter waiting to be let into Heaven.
While waiting for him to finalise the paperwork, the couple ask if it's possible for them to get married in Heaven.
"I dont know,"says St Peter. "This is the first time I have ever been asked. Let me go and find out ."
After eight weeks waiting, St Peter returns and tells the couple that they can indeed get married, if they so wish.
However, during the long wait the couple have had time to think long and hard about their relationship and what might happen if the marriage doesn't work out (eternity is quite a long time after all).
So they ask St Peter if they can get divorced if it all goes wrong. St Peter goes red in the face and slams down his paperwork:
"Oh come on!" he shouts, 'It's taken me two months to find a priest up here, do you have any idea how long it will take to find a lawyer?"
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Friday, May 27, 2005
On my way home from work one day last week, my usual route home was blocked by construction, leaving me with no other choice but to take back roads. I was traveling down one such road, a busy one, approaching a stop sign. The line to the stop sign was backed up to the point of blocking a development's entrance, if I were not to stop short of it and let a few cars turn in front of me. Some asswipe in a Corvette, however, decides that he's too good to wait and comes from somewhere behind me, trying to pass the line on the right hand shoulder, almost hitting the car turning into the development in front of me and almost hitting me while trying to avoid that accident. As soon as that car passed he gassed it again, putting himself in line a whole one car ahead of me, almost being hit by the other car that I was letting turn into the development.
After calmly rolling down the window and shouting a few chosen words, to which I got no reaction from the asswipe (pronounced a-swipay, he did look italian), we both ended up going straight through the next intersection. I remained one car behind the almost one-hit wonder. As we approached the next lighted intersection, I needed to go left, and it appeared as though asswipe would go straight. I veered into the left hand turning lane and started to pass asswipe, when he started gazing off into the field on the side of the road and almost swerved into my car again, before stopping at the stoplight.
At this point I've had enough, so I backed up a few inches to even my car up with his, rolled down my window and asked if he was paying attention to what he was doing. When he turned down his music and asked me what I said, I calmly and rationally said (yelled) "Why don't you open you (expletive) eyes and pay attention to where your (expletive) going jackass." His reply to my verbal assault was brilliant. He thought for a second and said "(expletive) off". Ah yes I could tell I was bantering with a genius.
Now I admit, that the expletives were exiting my mouth way more expediantly than I normally care for, but at least I was sandwiching them in between rational thought. As the "conversation" went on, the only thing he kept saying is "where you at, where you at". What does that mean exactly? Was he trying to tell me that although he could not match my wit or knew he was wrong, that he would like to make himself feel more manly by challenging me to a fight? Pretty common for an asswipe.
Finally the light turned green and as we started heading our separate ways, I leaned into the passenger side window, and yelled "just open your eyes and pay attention". His final comeback was "you open your eyes".
Wow, Maybe I should.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
I heard someone come up the stairs at my office, right around the time the UPS guy picks up our outgoing deliveries. We didn't have any outgoing last night, but instead of hearing the normal key jingling sound going back down the stairs, I heard the bathroom door shut. This is a one person bathroom, as my current office only consists of two people, but guests are usually welcome to use it at any time.
After a couple of minutes, however, I realized that the UPS driver was doing more than a quick pitstop, he was sitting on the throne. I know, I know, UPS drivers are human too, and where else could they go, but he was in there at least ten minutes. Then, after all was said and done, he opened the door and left...and I was immediately offended by the odor wafting down the hallway and seeping into my office from the bathroom. I thought to myself, at least he could have sprayed the air freshener. But that wasn't the worst of this drivers bathroom baffoonery, not by a long shot.
I did not attempt to go in right away, however, I did have to use the bathroom before leaving, and found out this driver has no bathroom etiquette at all. It looked as though he had washed his dirty hands but didn't use any soap. And then, instead of drying them with the paper towels, shook them dry all over the place. There were black dirty water spots all over the sink, the toilet, the floor, the mirror and the walls. He also left a present floating in the toilet, staring up at me. Thanks.
How do you feel ok about yourself after leaving someone elses bathroom in this manner. It absolutely disgusted me, and I really hope it was not my normal driver. He doesn't look like the type to read Bowhunt America magazine though. I know this guy does because he left the subscription cards from his magazine that he obviously brought with him, on the floor. Thanks, but I think I'll pass on that sub.
Oh and PS, after wiping your butt, the toilet paper goes in the toilet....not in the trash can. Damn.
Tags: UPS Driver, Bathroom Etiquette
It seems as though Dave was feeling lost after watching the season finale of Lost last night:
I for one, thought there was a couple of extremely cool things about the finale. I don't watch much TV at all, so if a show can get me guessing as to what's really going on, then the writers of that show have done a good job. It means I'm interested. Now, if you get me to keep changing my guesses, that's what I like best.Okay, I just sat through two hours of Lost expecting that at least one small something would be solved or explained. Of course, nothing was, and now I want my two hours back. I think this was about the most lame, disappointing, piece of shit finale ever aired on television. Note to writers and producers: you can't just string people along forever with no pay-off. So where was my f#@&ing pay-off? If they're not going to explain anything at season's end... the most important episode of the entire year... does that mean they never plan on it at all? Will they just keep going and going until they're cancelled, and then leave everybody hanging? Whoopee! It's a hole! THAT'S what I waited all season for? I mean, who cares?
Russo, the French chick, said that she heard "the others" whispering about coming after "the boy". Bringing "the others" out to snatch "the boy" from the boat when everyone assumed, including me, that they would be coming after Clair's boy was a brilliant misdirection. I didn't see that coming at all, I didn't think they would find their saviors, but we're left thinking all of them could be dead. Brilliant.
The black mist? That was stupid. I was, however, happy that it's not some cheesy looking dinosaur. I've said since the first episode that if it was, I would not watch again.
Bringing in a new character a couple weeks ago to explain why the dynamite would be so dangerous was a good idea too, even if he had to demonstrate why. I really liked how the writers tried to lull us into a comfort zone and believe that the stick in his hand would not blow. Then....boom. Then Hurley's line to Jack a couple of scenes later was absolutely classic:
The hole didn't really bother me either. I did not expect to see anything of it. In fact, I had even thought that the dynamite might not open it, so I was not disappointed.Hurley: Um, you've got some Arnst on you.
Overall I thought it was a great episode. Can't wait for next season. And don't worry Dave, they'll probably bring you right back to them with the season opener, after you forget how pissed off you are.
Tags: Lost Season Finale, Lost, Finale, TV Series
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
If only we were moving a couple of weeks earlier. I guess I'll have to wait until next year to see these guys.From sculptures and fashion to games and a parade, everything at the festival will revolve around duct tape.
Tags: Duct Tape Festival, Avon Ohio, Duct Tape
Then theFriend gave us a bottle of wine to take home and try that had a screw cap. He told me that he had just read that wineries were starting to use them more often. Articles like this:
Or this:The move to screw caps has been based around the high incidence of cork taint caused the chemical called 'TCA' which can mask the fruit characters in wine with musty aromas.
Screw caps preserve the freshness of wine better as well as eliminating the risk of cork taint - or corked wine. Screw caps provide an absolute, pilfer-proof seal that prevents oxygen from reaching the wine inside. This means the wine will age more slowly, less sulphur dioxide is required during winemaking and there is no variation in taste between bottles with long-term cellaring.
So we cracked open that screw top bottle and tried it, and low and behold, we liked it. Now today I read another wine lover's thoughts and experiences with a screw cap bottle of wine:More recently, there has been a renewed push for screw caps. The beverage industry has long regarded a screw cap as the nearly ideal closure. It is inexpensive, easy to apply, a very effective seal, and best of all, does not require a special tool (corkscrew) or skill to get at the product inside. Unfortunately, because of all of the tradition and mystique that pervade the wine industry, wine drinkers tend to associate a screw cap with inexpensive wines of low quality.
Fortunately, some of the more adventurous winemakers in Australia and California are beginning to bottle some of their better wines behind a high-quality screw cap made especially for the wine industry. The oldest wines are only three years old, but these early results indicate that the fruit character of a wine bottled with a screw cap exceeds that of a wine bottled using a cork.
The wine industry has won me over on the idea that screw caps may be better for the wine. But take heed wine industry, no matter what articles I read in Wine Spectator and no matter what you the wine makers tell me, I will never be able to give wine in a box a shot a fair shot. I do have some standards left.Yes, as difficult as it is for me to admit it, I bought and consumed a bottle of wine with a screw top. What's worse is I liked it. A lot. I'm now kneeling in front of my dark red Sith Wine Master and swearing allegiance to him.
I know screw tops are supposed to be so much better technologically than corks. Still, it feels like I've betrayed my Jedi wine connoisseur brethren.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
At this point, they walked out of the aisle in front of me and I saw that a 30-something mom with a early-teens daughter were the subject of this edition of overheard.Girl: You have no ovaries, You have no ovaries.
Mom: Stop it
Girl: You have no ovaries, You have no ovaries.
I could editorialize about how parents are not meant to be their own children's friends and that this is exactly why, but I don't think I really need to in this case, do I?Mom: (swings purse and connects with daughter's back) Stop it, I told you that's enough.
Girl: (laughing) Ooh, mommy, you know I like it rough.
Two men at Starbucks are discussing the Iraq war behind me. One is blaming Iraqi doctors for all of the suicide bombings. My ears prick up as this is an angle I had not heard on the news.
Man 2: “Where did you get that information? I’ve never heard anything about doctors being involved!”
Man 1: “I hear about it every time there’s a bombing. Where have you been?”
Man 2: “Doctors. Iraqi ones?”
Man 1: “Yup.”
Man 2: “What… are the supplying the suicide bombers?”
Man 1: “No, they are the bombers. They’re all doctors.”
[ Now at this point, I am hanging on every word. ]
Man 1: “All of these bombings are being carried out by in-surgeons.”
Monday, May 23, 2005
Ever since I won this Bad Monkey T-shirt from the blogography.com blogiversary extravaganza, theWife just can't seem to keep her hands off of me. Thanks blogography.com.
The previous anouncement was an advertisement for blogography.com. If you haven't read his blog yet, you should. That is all.
Friday, May 20, 2005
1. A very good imagination.
2. Way too much time on her hands in meetings.
as i type, i'm in a meeting. i'm not contributing anything, and barely paying attention (obviously, since i'm on here), but i still need to be here. there are other people in the room with me, all participating, who probably assume that i'm taking notes.
good GOD do i have to pee.
i was really tired earlier, so i went to starbucks and got a four-shot iced soy white mocha (lactose, how i miss you). then i had about ten glasses of water. and now, good GOD do i have to pee.
this meeting will probably last another half hour at the LEAST. i'm just trying to hold it. can you imagine if i couldn't? because good GOD, i can.
i let loose all over the floor, sneaky like a fox, so no one notices at first.
then comes the smell. noses perk up, and then crinkle in disgust.
the chick sitting next to me (who doesn't like me - her boyfriend flirts with me whenever he comes to visit) notices the puddle surrounding my chair. she blushes bright red, and pretends she didn't see it, all the while rolling her chair inch by inch away from me.
the guy sitting on the other side of me (who does like me - he flirts with me too) sees her inching away and looks at me, and then down at the ground. he surreptitiously drops his napkin leftover from lunch (we've been in this meeting for awhile) onto the puddle.
the person sitting across from him - who is visiting our office - bends down to helpfully pick up the napkin. his hand touches it, and notices that it's wet. he looks all around, and pushing his chair back, stands up, loudly saying "what the hell?!?!"
chaos ensues. all 8 people in the room back away from me, trying to act mature, but at the same time in shock. they head for the door sitcom-style, getting stuck in it from trying to all get out at once. the chick who had been sitting next to me (the one who doesn't like me), screams "let me out!!"
the receptionist in the lobby overhears this. she panics, leaps up, and pulls the fire alarm.
some people peek out of their office, assuming it's a drill. some come running, pushing open the door to the stairwell and heading down.
meanwhile, i'm sitting there, dripping.
the people peeking out of their offices ask what's up. the receptionist, still freaking out (she's a little high-strung from coming to starbucks with me earlier), yells that everyone needs to clear out.
everyone else starts running for the stairs.
i roll my dripping chair over to the window (i'm not sure i want to stand up), and see crowds of people collecting across the street. people are pointing at the building, trying to see if they can detect smoke.
my boss runs past the conference room i'm in, and comes back once he sees me. he asks me if i'm coming. i say no, that's alright, i'm fine. he says, "but there could be a fire. we need to get out." "no, i don't think there's a fire" "how do you know? if it's not a fire, what is it?"
the building is clearing out, and we hear sirens approaching. my boss grabs my hand and yanks me out of the chair, pulling me out the door towards the stairs. he drags me behind him, my feet slipping around in what used to be beautiful leather sandals, but are now urine-drenched, which i assume makes them not quite as fashionable as before.
we make it down the six flights of stairs, and outside. a few hundred people are waiting around outside. the receptionist is talking to the firemen, jumping up and down trying to explain that she heard someone scream that we had to get out.
the chick (who doesn't like me) and the guy (who does like me) are both standing in a group with the other 6 people who were in our meeting. *they* know what's going on, and are giving me strange looks and seemingly trying to decide if they should tell the firemen what happened.
i stand there dripping, unable to enjoy the attractive firemen, because i'm, well, dripping.
smoke starts to come out of a third floor window. people scream and point, backing farther away from the building.
the firemen head in, all macho and sexy - dammit, even being covered in pee can't stop me from enjoying this.
twenty minutes later, it's over. the kitchen on the third floor is pretty burned up from where someone had put a chinese food container (complete with little metal handle) in the microwave and then left it there, still on, when they ran out of the building.
by now, everyone knows that it was me. that i peed. i'm sitting on the wooden bench, by myself, while people i've never met talk about me. i figure what the hell, and pull out a cigarette. i go to light it, and realize the pack was drenched somewhere along the way.
good GOD i have to pee. and now i want a cigarette.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
States must permit in-state and out-of-state wineries to play by the same rules when it comes to shipping their product directly to consumers, the Supreme Court ruled on Monday in a decision that is likely to shift the battleground of the wine wars from the courts back to the state legislatures.
Just let the wine flow, like a mountain stream, let the wine flow, yeah you know what I mean.
And the Wine flowed, the people rejoiced and all was right with the world.In addition to New York and Michigan, six other states permit direct shipment by in-state wineries while restricting it for others. They are Connecticut, Massachusetts, Florida, Ohio, Indiana and Vermont.
It's been a week and a half, and I'm still having flashbacks. There were a bunch of different birds flying in the increasing winds around my work yesterday. It's not that I was afraid of them, but every time I would see one level out and fly in my direction, I got chills.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers
[now that's taking things a bit far!]
Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over
[what a guy!]
Miners Refuse to Work after Death
[no-good-for-nothin' lazy so-and-sos!]
Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant
[see if that works any better than a fair trial!]
War Dims Hope for Peace
[I can see where it might have that effect!] If Strike Isn't Settled Quickly, It May Last Awhile
Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures
[who would have thought!]
Enfield (London) Couple Slain; Police Suspect Homicide
[they may be on to something!]
Red Tape Holds Up New Bridges
[you mean there's something stronger than duct tape?!]
Man Struck By Lightning Faces Battery Charge
[he probably IS the battery charge!]
New Study of Obesity Looks for Larger Test Group
[weren't they fat enough?!]
Astronaut Takes Blame for Gas in Spacecraft
[That's what he gets for eating those beans!]
Kids Make Nutritious Snacks
[Taste like chicken?]
Local High School Dropouts Cut in Half
[Chainsaw Massacre all over again!]
Hospitals are Sued by 7 Foot Doctors
[Boy, are they tall!]
And the winner is....
Typhoon Rips Through Cemetery; Hundreds Dead
Did I read that sign right?
Friday, May 13, 2005
It gets better. When he walked up to security with the camera, he showed it to the TSA guard and told him what it was. He was instructed that he could take the camera but not the case. What??? Because the case could do what exactly? I can imagine this conversation going down something like this:
Man: Hi, this is a camera, see?
TSA: Sorry you can't take that on the plane.
Man: What? But why not, it's just a camera.
TSA: It looks like a lighter.
Man: But it's not, see..the camera comes out of the case and everything.
TSA: Alright, then you can take the camera...but not the case.
Man: I can't take an empty metal case?
TSA: Nope, looks too much like a lighter.
Man: But it's not....and it can't start fires, because it's hollow.
TSA: But it looks like it could.
Man: Your not too bright are you?
TSA: Sir, calm down, and put the lighter down before you hurt someone.
Man: IT'S NOT A FRIGGEN LIGHTER.
TSA: Security, I need backup, we have a hostile man at the security checkpoint and he's waving around what looks like a lighter.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Monday, May 09, 2005
Note to Self:
When theWife tells me to stay in the car, I should stay in the car.
As most bmg readers are aware, theWife and I are having a house built near Cleveland. When our developer originally showed us what lots would be available for theHouse, we asked how many houses would end up being built near us. The developer explained that there were limitations to where they could build in the area.
The first limitation is family owned property. Directly behind our house sits approximately 20 acres of land that is owned and maintained by a family who has occupied the area for many, many years. The developer could not guarantee that this family will not someday sell their land, however, the addition of two new houses in the last few years, on their property, for their family members, is a good sign that our view will remain in tact for years to come.
The second limitation to their development is a Metroparks area. Behind our house, out to the left is approximately 310 acres of land that is owned and maintained by the County Metroparks system. Anyone who is from Cleveland knows that the Metroparks are areas of land that are restricted to nature and wildlife. People are allowed to walk and drive through these areas to observe nature, but the Metroparks are otherwise untouched by man.
Their third and last limitation happens to be a bald eagle's nest located just down the street from our house, that is, if the street were allowed to continue straight in that direction. Since the bald eagle is an endangered species, it's nest and the surrounding area are protected from development as well. This means that in three directions from theHouse, no development can take place, at least for now.
The first two areas I have spoken of are easily visible from the view that is afforded to us by our morning room. Until this most recent trip for the pre-drywall inspection, however, I had not personally seen the eagle's nest as it is blocked from view by trees. Yesterday, I decided that I would go out that way to see exactly how far the nest was from theHouse and snap off a few pictures to show theWife and kids, who were not able to make this trip with me. I found the nest easily and did manage to get some pictures. Little did I know I was going to get a whole lot more.
On my way out to theHouse, I called theWife and told her of my plans. She told me that since finding out we were going to have a bald eagle for a neighbor, she has read up on the endangered species. She said I could take as many pictures as I wanted, as long as I didn't get too close and stayed in the car. She then told me that bald eagles are so heavy that they normally don't fly too far from their nest. She also told me that because of their immense weight that they tire very easily. Give these two factors, if an eagle did happen to fly too far away from its nest, it may lack the energy to make the return flight. I, unfortunately, did not take her good advice.
When I arrived at what will soon be the end of my street, there were still trees blocking the view of where I was told the nest would be. Don't you see, I had to get out of the car if I were to be able to even catch a glimpse of the nest's location? I walked in the opposite direction of the trees, though, until I finally could see the nest. But, I was just too far away to get any kind of a decent picture, so I walked a little bit closer. As I drew closer and closer, I could feel the nest drawing me in. I was engrossed in the electricity I felt in my chest. I had to get just a little closer and then I would be able to get a good picture. I was approximately halfway between the nest and my rental car when I realized that there was a head sticking out of the nest. It wasn't that big though, nor was it white like a bald eagle's head should be.
The eagle's head was neither big nor white because it was not the adult eagle that I hoped to see. It was a baby.
Fifty feet in front of me was a dirt road. Obviously people had been out this way before, and the eagle did not leave because of their presence, surely that must be a safe distance for me to get a better picture. I kept walking closer. As I reached the road, I saw the momma eagle. She flew from somewhere beneath the nest, up to the nest. I should have stopped moving at that very moment, but I couldn't help it, I kept inching forward. My whole body was now pulsing with the excitement of getting this picture.
Finally, after creeping forward a few more feet, I forced myself to stop. I held my camera up to take a picture. At that very moment, momma eagle swooped down out of her nest and I snapped off a picture. I was readying myself for another picture, when I came to a rather important realization:
This huge bird, this national treasure, this endangered species was heading right for me. She was attacking.
She swooped down out of her nest and was right on level with my head. I turned and started to run as fast as my out-of-shape legs could run, but she was gaining ground quickly on me. I continued to run away from her nest, all the while feeling much like Vern running from the train while crossing the bridge in "Stand By Me".
"I'm dead, I'm dead", is all I could think. I looked back at my impending doom to see her rise, ten feet above my head and just hover there, directly above me. I started to run in a zigzag pattern, making sure my direction was constantly away from her nest, thinking she was ready to drop and grab onto me with her huge talons like I was a fish to feed to her baby. Then, after I'd say a 200-yard chase, it finally happened.
She dropped her altitude slightly and swooped down in front of me. Then up she went, back to the tree line leaving me to run the remaining 100 yards or so back to the car. With my chest ready to explode, and my legs ready to collapse, I jumped into the car and drove back up the street to theHouse. There I called theWife, regained my breath and some of my sanity and started piecing together what had just happened.
After finally composing myself, I left theHouse and drove over to the Metroparks. The park ranger was there, so I asked him more about the bald eagle. He told me that normally, the eagle flies up high and screeches at people to warn them away from her nest. He was surprised to hear my story and asked me if the eagle screeched at all while she pursued me. When I told him that she had not, he instructed me that when an eagle screeches, she is warning off, but if she is silent, she is attacking.
So, there you have it. I now have something for my "Things I've done that you most likely have not" list; being attacked by a national treasure.
Friday, May 06, 2005
I'm always amazed at how powerful the subconscious mind really is. It's like, I don't even realize that it's working?
I'm on my flight from Dallas, yes I connected through Dallas to go to Cleveland but that's a different story, stay with me, and the flight attendant just provided their beverage service. I, as per usual, ordered a diet pepsi, which they serve in the can, warm, with a thimble sized cup full of ice to pour it in. As I took the first sip, I noticed how unusually horrible my soda tasted. It wasn't flat, and it wasn't that it wasn't diet coke for all you diet coke lovers out there, it just tasted really bad. I took a sip straight from the can, which brings another whole set of issues that we really don't need to discuss right now, to see if maybe the can had gone bad somehow, but the soda tasted fine from the can.
I was truly puzzled until I remembered something Brian was telling me just two days ago. He had to tell me about an article he read about how terribly nasty airplane water is and that it should never be drank. In fact, as Brian told us, not even the ice cubes, which are of course made from this very water, are fit for consumption.
Now, it is hard for me to believe as I sit here, cramped on my two hour flight to Cleveland, that just from hearing about Brian's story and without thinking about it before drinking, mind you, that the ice in my cup would make my soda (do I need to start getting used to saying pop again?) taste like crap. I can not, however, think of another reason for it. Can you?
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Monday, May 02, 2005
I received a call at the beginning of last week from theProjectManager overseeing the construction of theHouse. As it turns out, theHouse is moving right along and he wanted to do the pre-dry-wall inspection on Friday, May 6th, this coming Friday. For those that have never had to do this type of inspection, you walk the house just before the dry-wall is put up so that if there are any mistakes in the design or electrical layout of theHouse, they can be changed without having to knock out newly put up walls. Seeing as how it might be quite important to actually be there to do this inspection, I booked passage on an airplane to be in town for it. I'm sure I will be coming back with a multitude of pictures for everyone to see. Until then, I've had theParents driving by theHouse and snapping off pictures. I started a page showing the progression of theHouse. Click here to view.